Easy Melody
Page 46
He reaches up and traces the lines with just the tip of his finger, making me break out in goosebumps.
“As you know, tattoos can become addictive, and for a while that was my drug. I had the whole arm done, from shoulder to mid-forearm, in the span of about two years. The artist I was seeing wouldn’t go down to my wrist because he said I was young and one day I might have a job that I would need to cover it for, so he said to just think on it.”
“You never added to it,” Declan says.
“No.” I shake my head and watch his fingers tracing the lines, the vibrant colors of my ink. “I stopped getting tattoos altogether when I was twenty.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath and bite my lip. “Because I liked it too much. The pain. I would have gone every day if I could afford it, and when someone suggested I pierce my nipples, and I seriously thought about it, I knew it was time to stop.”
“Lots of people have piercings,” he says logically. “Your navel is pierced.”
“They do, and the navel happened around the same time as the tattoos, but if I’d taken that step down that road, I would have mutilated my body, Declan. I didn’t, and don’t, want that. I like the ink on my arm; the navel is enough. I don’t need anything else.”
“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Declan says, his voice rough.
Tell him you love him!
“I do trust you,” I say instead and point to his own ink. “What does yours mean?”
“I was a young musician in college,” he says with a sly grin. “You do the math.”
Chapter Thirteen
~Callie~
“I don’t know,” I murmur, walking from room to room in the unusual farm-style house that my new realtor, Peggy Lewis, has found to show me. I thought, and Declan agreed, that it was a good idea to find a new realtor, given that Pete didn’t seem to understand that help me find a house didn’t also mean let me take my pants off for you.
“This house has everything you asked for,” Peggy reminds me, following close behind me with her hands clenched at her waist. “Actually, each of the three homes I showed you today do.”
“Mm hmm,” I hum and ignore her. In the two weeks since we returned home from Seattle, I’ve been even more anxious to find my house and begin renovations. Maybe it was seeing how Sam and Leo decorated their house, and all of the ideas it inspired in me, or maybe it’s that, despite being thankful that Adam’s given me a place to stay, I’m tired of finding a different strange woman in the kitchen each morning, and it’s just time to have my own space.
“It’s nice,” Declan says from across the room, giving me space to pace and think. Unlike Peggy, Declan gets me. “High ceilings, big rooms.”
I nod, staring out of a window so big it practically spills out into the spacious back yard. I do like the space, and with a minimal amount of work, it would be gorgeous in no time.
But I can’t picture myself living here. No matter how I try, I can’t envision how I’d decorate it, what color of paints I’d use, which walls I’d knock down.
None of the three we’ve seen today speak to me, and it’s frustrating me. Even if I’m not looking for a house for me to live in, I can usually picture how the house should be rehabbed in my head.
But today? Nada.
“Maybe I’m just not in the right mood,” I say with a shrug and a sigh, then turn to Peggy. “I appreciate your time.”
“So, did these just not fit what you had in mind?” Peggy asks, and I know she’s just trying to do her job. She wants to find the right property for me, but damn it, I’m irritable, and I don’t even know why.
“No, you did a great job. I’ll definitely think about it.”
“Well, just give me a call if you have any questions, or if you’d like to see more.”
She ushers us out of the house and locks the door as we walk to Declan’s car. Peggy waves as we pull away.
“Talk to me, baby,” Declan says and takes my hand, squeezing three times.
“I don’t know what to say,” I reply.
“You’re out of sorts today.”
I nod and look out the passenger window. Geez, I’m moody. Hormones? Probably. Or, I’m just a girl.
That’s usually reason enough to get teary, but I don’t like to cry, so that just makes me even crabbier.
“I liked the last house,” I say after I clear my throat.
“But you didn’t love it,” he guesses correctly. “It’s okay, you’ll find it. You’re not in a huge rush.”
“Right.” Except I am in a rush. I want my space. I want to get elbow-deep in a project and make something ordinary beautiful. I want that.
Soon, Declan pulls into his driveway, but rather than get out of the car, I turn to him.
“Dec, I’m not great company tonight. You can just take me home.”
He frowns, his hazel eyes seeing too much as he cups my cheek and lightly brushes his thumb over my jaw. “I don’t want to be without you tonight.”
I lean into his touch, turn my face to kiss his palm, and nod. “Okay. Let’s be lazy tonight.”
“Do you know the definition of lazy?” he asks with a laugh and unlocks the house, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.
“The bar has been slow enough for me to take a couple of days off a week,” I remind him. “I can be lazy.” Kind of. “Why aren’t you working tonight?”
“As you know, tattoos can become addictive, and for a while that was my drug. I had the whole arm done, from shoulder to mid-forearm, in the span of about two years. The artist I was seeing wouldn’t go down to my wrist because he said I was young and one day I might have a job that I would need to cover it for, so he said to just think on it.”
“You never added to it,” Declan says.
“No.” I shake my head and watch his fingers tracing the lines, the vibrant colors of my ink. “I stopped getting tattoos altogether when I was twenty.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath and bite my lip. “Because I liked it too much. The pain. I would have gone every day if I could afford it, and when someone suggested I pierce my nipples, and I seriously thought about it, I knew it was time to stop.”
“Lots of people have piercings,” he says logically. “Your navel is pierced.”
“They do, and the navel happened around the same time as the tattoos, but if I’d taken that step down that road, I would have mutilated my body, Declan. I didn’t, and don’t, want that. I like the ink on my arm; the navel is enough. I don’t need anything else.”
“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Declan says, his voice rough.
Tell him you love him!
“I do trust you,” I say instead and point to his own ink. “What does yours mean?”
“I was a young musician in college,” he says with a sly grin. “You do the math.”
Chapter Thirteen
~Callie~
“I don’t know,” I murmur, walking from room to room in the unusual farm-style house that my new realtor, Peggy Lewis, has found to show me. I thought, and Declan agreed, that it was a good idea to find a new realtor, given that Pete didn’t seem to understand that help me find a house didn’t also mean let me take my pants off for you.
“This house has everything you asked for,” Peggy reminds me, following close behind me with her hands clenched at her waist. “Actually, each of the three homes I showed you today do.”
“Mm hmm,” I hum and ignore her. In the two weeks since we returned home from Seattle, I’ve been even more anxious to find my house and begin renovations. Maybe it was seeing how Sam and Leo decorated their house, and all of the ideas it inspired in me, or maybe it’s that, despite being thankful that Adam’s given me a place to stay, I’m tired of finding a different strange woman in the kitchen each morning, and it’s just time to have my own space.
“It’s nice,” Declan says from across the room, giving me space to pace and think. Unlike Peggy, Declan gets me. “High ceilings, big rooms.”
I nod, staring out of a window so big it practically spills out into the spacious back yard. I do like the space, and with a minimal amount of work, it would be gorgeous in no time.
But I can’t picture myself living here. No matter how I try, I can’t envision how I’d decorate it, what color of paints I’d use, which walls I’d knock down.
None of the three we’ve seen today speak to me, and it’s frustrating me. Even if I’m not looking for a house for me to live in, I can usually picture how the house should be rehabbed in my head.
But today? Nada.
“Maybe I’m just not in the right mood,” I say with a shrug and a sigh, then turn to Peggy. “I appreciate your time.”
“So, did these just not fit what you had in mind?” Peggy asks, and I know she’s just trying to do her job. She wants to find the right property for me, but damn it, I’m irritable, and I don’t even know why.
“No, you did a great job. I’ll definitely think about it.”
“Well, just give me a call if you have any questions, or if you’d like to see more.”
She ushers us out of the house and locks the door as we walk to Declan’s car. Peggy waves as we pull away.
“Talk to me, baby,” Declan says and takes my hand, squeezing three times.
“I don’t know what to say,” I reply.
“You’re out of sorts today.”
I nod and look out the passenger window. Geez, I’m moody. Hormones? Probably. Or, I’m just a girl.
That’s usually reason enough to get teary, but I don’t like to cry, so that just makes me even crabbier.
“I liked the last house,” I say after I clear my throat.
“But you didn’t love it,” he guesses correctly. “It’s okay, you’ll find it. You’re not in a huge rush.”
“Right.” Except I am in a rush. I want my space. I want to get elbow-deep in a project and make something ordinary beautiful. I want that.
Soon, Declan pulls into his driveway, but rather than get out of the car, I turn to him.
“Dec, I’m not great company tonight. You can just take me home.”
He frowns, his hazel eyes seeing too much as he cups my cheek and lightly brushes his thumb over my jaw. “I don’t want to be without you tonight.”
I lean into his touch, turn my face to kiss his palm, and nod. “Okay. Let’s be lazy tonight.”
“Do you know the definition of lazy?” he asks with a laugh and unlocks the house, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.
“The bar has been slow enough for me to take a couple of days off a week,” I remind him. “I can be lazy.” Kind of. “Why aren’t you working tonight?”
